


Andante

by ZhoraKys



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhoraKys/pseuds/ZhoraKys
Summary: Of all the things he's let slip through his fingers, why'd it have to be her?
Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Faye Valentine
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Andante

"Hey… you good?"

Faye looks up at him and wrinkles her nose. "What do you want?"

Spike shrugs. He feels almost -- _almost_ \-- like this was a bad idea, but the fact that Faye's response isn't immediate banishment, he feels, speaks volumes. 

"I came to see if you were alright. You seemed awful quiet coming back to the ship. I dunno what the hell you wanted to come to Earth for, but… did you find what you were looking for?"

Faye's expression remains fixed, until it doesn't. At that point, her face softens all at once. She turns her body toward him and sort of sits up, like she's just now realized she's no longer alone. 

"Yes," she says simply. 

Spike almost asks what it was she found, but he thinks better of it. If she wanted him to know, she'd have told him. He can at least count on that much. 

"Good." He hangs in the doorway for an awkward few seconds, then starts to turn. "Uh. Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

"Spike."

He turns again, too fast. Faye's still lying half on her side, and Spike let's his eyes flicker across her body. She sees, he's sure of it, and she doesn't move.

"What?"

She doesn't say anything, just looks at him. Spike steps toward her. What else can he do? A woman looks at you like _that,_ you're locked in. Nothing else to it. He crosses the room in two long strides and stands with his shins scraping the edge of the austere mattress. 

"Sit down," says Faye. She turns away from him and shifts. 

Sitting, he's still a fair bit taller than her, and his legs look spindly, almost insect-like, in their bent position.

Then, she's leaning against him, and his hand goes instinctively to her back as he feels the heat of her body through his threadbare jacket. She kisses him, first on the cheek, and then on the mouth when he turns and she offers no resistance. Then they are kissing, rightly, no two ways about it. Spike lets his hand drift to her lower back, threading his other fingers through her hair. 

He's wanted this. Oh, but he's just now admitting it, to her, to _himself_. How long has he wanted this? Perhaps since yesterday? Perhaps since the moment he first saw Faye? Perhaps, abstractly, for his entire life?

Her kisses grow more insistent, and he notes with some self-consciousness that he's already responding quite strongly to the stimulus. Has it really been so long? He supposes it has. Hell, even Jet has probably got more action than he has in the last year or so. When _was_ the last time? He remembers flashes of someone, some air conditioned hotel on Venus, and almost a voice, or maybe just breathing. The mental image sends a buzz through him and he flexes his thighs, pushing his hips up to brush at Faye's body. 

She responds by reaching down to palm him through his pants, and then there's no recollections, only Faye and Spike and the humming sound of the gravity generator, or maybe the refrigerator. 

An irritatingly pedantic part of him makes him pull his lips away from hers. A jumble of words spill out of his mouth. "What… are you… is this?"

"Shh," she hisses back, rather aggressively. Spike doesn't care to ask twice.

She undresses him piece by piece, and he lets her, not thinking too much about the fact that he's completely naked, save for socks, before she's removed a stitch of clothing. Not that her little yellow shorts leave a whole lot to the imagination. He runs a finger along the seam between her legs and smiles as he feels her shudder. Does it again. Again, until she's writhing and moaning, then he unzips the top and takes her breasts in hand, rolling her nipples under his thumbs until she's practically gasping. He thinks about all the times he tried not to think about doing exactly this. Has to pause to just look at Faye's breasts, dimly illuminated, pale in his large, long hands.

It's not surprising when she pushes against him -- Spike's strong enough to resist but he takes the hint and lets himself be pushed, enjoying the show as Faye stands to finally remove the shorts. 

She's perfect. A work of art. Spike smiles, and reaches for her, wishing he could just stand her up there in the middle of the room and touch her, all over, everywhere. As she straddles him he runs a finger up her slit again and feels how wet she is, and that distant, pedantic part of him is a little shocked. But the more present part of him has a powerful erection, so he focuses on that. 

She lowers herself onto his cock, moaning through gritted teeth the entire time, and Spike shuts his eyes tight as a wave of nearly intolerable pleasure washes over him. There's a moment, when she's taken him up to the hilt, her ass set firmly against his upper thighs, that he catches her eye. They look at each other, each waiting for the other to say something. Spike wonders about an explanation, but suspects he wouldn't be satisfied with any she could give.

"God," says Faye in a wavering voice, "just _fuck_ me already."

Spike nearly smiles as he thrusts into her but the feeling is too much for fine control of his features so he grits his teeth and _fucks_ her, already. His fingernails dig into the flesh of her hips as he pushes in, Faye leaning into his rhythm, both hands on his chest and those perfect breasts bouncing in time. 

Spike shuts his eyes and rolls her over in a coordinated motion that he forgets as soon as it's over. Beneath him, she looks smaller, more delicate. He slows for a second, and she makes a noise like a wounded animal so he speeds up again, pounding into her like he's trying to find her breaking point. 

"Faye… _oh--Faye…_ "

"Pull out, pull out," she whispers through gritted teeth. 

He does, just barely in time, and comes on her stomach. It's been a while. 

He stays hunched over her for a while, and then her fingers migrate down to her slit, still glistening, and Spike brushes her aside and puts his tongue to her, tasting her wetness, the slight sour musky taste, like wine but more exotic, somehow sweeter. He laps at her clit and one hand travels up to find her breast again, trailing through the semen drying tacky on her skin. Her breathing fills the little room, a harsh white percussion to Spike's melodic humming, and when she comes it's a perfect harmony. 

She thrashes a bit against him, and he pushes hands down on her thighs to stabilize her until her climax ebbs and she falls back, spent and panting. 

He waits a moment with his face resting on her thigh, trying to be polite about the end and the leaving. The certainty and the desire that he'd felt, when she'd kissed him, are fading, becoming confused, a miasma of excitation mixed with confusion and embarrassment. Has he wanted Faye, or has he just wanted sex? Surely he's old enough, experienced enough to tell the difference. 

"Spike?" Her voice rings out clear in the silence. 

"Mm."

"...That was nice."

"Yeah, it was. I guess you're going to kick me out now."

Her voice is almost back to normal when she says, "Aren't you perceptive."

*****

It's extra bad timing, it stinks just that much more, then, when they find her gone along with Ed and Ein.

Spike's no stranger to feeling used, and most of the time he has no particular issue with it. Everyone in this world is just trying to get ahead by any means necessary. He feels better being the one doing the using when he knows he's done his own time in the stocks. But being used for sex isn't something he's used to, and he suddenly has an inkling of what Faye must be used to, and that makes for a complicated mix of empathy and guilt. He can't talk to Jet about it. For as kindhearted and wise as the man is, his views on certain things are very black and white. 

Spike wanders the halls of the Bebop, thinking about coincidence and luck. 

How many months has she been squatting on this damn ship, and how many months has Spike been wondering? How many months has he spent tamping down fantasies and scowling at her in the halls? How thoroughly has he convinced himself that any advance would be cheating on Julia?

Julia, who's dead anyway and isn't going to be warming his bed anytime soon. 

"Jet," he says as he watches the man boil dozens of eggs in a big steel pot. "Do you ever feel like you're just making up your own feelings?"

"Hm?"

"I mean… say… you fell in love."

"Uh oh."

"No, no, bear with me. It's just the best example I can think of. Say you fell in love with someone."

"Okay." Jet turns away from the bubbling pot and crosses his arms.

"Could you pinpoint the moment that it happened? Or would you just wake up one morning and realize you were in love with them, even though you never really gave it any thought?"

"Hm, I don't know." Jet frowns. "I guess probably the latter."

"Right. But… how would you know if you actually fell in love, or if you just thought maybe you _ought_ to be?"

Jet shifts, checks the water, and turns back to Spike. "What's the difference?"

"I mean… what if you just looked at a person, and thought, maybe it would make sense to love them. And then… all of a sudden, bam. You're in love with them."

Jet stares at him for another moment, then smiles and shakes his head. "I'm afraid I don't quite know what you're talking about, Spike."

Spike lays back on the couch, his head full of Faye and his heart filled with lead. 

"Nevermind," he says.


End file.
